บท 398: Gilgamesh's Praise

Gilgamesh stood before the colossal, defeated form of Tiamat. Her once-majestic body now lay in a state of disarray, wings splayed out across the broken terrain, her scales dulling under the weight of her failure. He gazed at her, his expression inscrutable, neither triumphant nor sorrowful, merely observing the fallen deity. He remained motionless for a moment, as though paying silent homage to the creature that had once represented such primal chaos, the mother of gods and monsters.

With a flick of his wrist, Gilgamesh gave a seemingly dismissive gesture. The gesture was understated, almost casual, but its effect was profound. Tiamat's massive body began to shiver, then crumble, her scales losing their substance and turning into ash. An unseen wind gathered, sweeping across the endless landscape of the Plane of Chaos. Bit by bit, Tiamat dissolved, her ashes carried away until nothing remained of her except the memory of her once-daunting presence.