"Seven days—God created everything in just seven days!"
Gilgamesh stared upward in stunned disbelief before collapsing into hysterical laughter, tears streaming uncontrollably down his aged face. In that instant, something within him shattered—his proud, unyielding defiance now utterly broken. There existed no deeper sorrow than a hero losing the very pride that defined him.
"Seven days…" Gilgamesh's laughter grew wild and delirious as the weight of this truth crushed him. In his final moments, he recalled vividly the first question he had ever asked, standing upon the palm of this towering giant: "What is civilization?"
…"Civilization is the spark of fire, civilization is knowledge, civilization is order—the greatest power the wise possess to protect themselves."…
"Protect ourselves…" His laughter echoed bitterly, sweeping across windswept hills, rushing rivers, verdant forests, golden fields of grain, and endless grasslands.
On the outskirts of Uruk, villagers, nobles in the royal city, and forest dwellers alike lifted their faces skyward, captivated by Gilgamesh's mad, mournful laughter. Countless eyes brimmed with tears, and Sumerian laments rose sorrowfully, honoring their fallen king—the hero whose name would echo eternally in history, now fading into dust.
On that day, Gilgamesh, the legendary hero-king of Uruk, met his end.
Xu Zhi sighed softly, watching the final breath leave the aging warrior. "I never sought conquest. Everything you wished to know, I answered truthfully. Yet I possess no elixir of immortality—in fact, I myself linger near death. Why did you cling so stubbornly to futile pride?"
"The king is dead!" voices roared in panic.
"Our king—the greatest hero we have ever known—challenged the creator himself and fell!"
"We are defeated!"
Soldiers wailed in despair, scattering wildly in chaotic retreat.
Xu Zhi made no move to pursue them; there was nowhere for them to flee. Even the edges of the world would offer no refuge from the coming catastrophe.
"It's unbelievable…truly unbelievable," murmured Akkad, Uruk's royal scribe, trembling atop the shattered city walls. Cold sweat drenched his hands as he finally understood the terrible truth. In frantic desperation, he seized his quill and parchment, determined to record everything clearly before death took him.
He wrote solemnly into the final chapter of the Genesis: The Fall of Sumer:
"The Wise Beast was, in truth, the Creator Himself. Gilgamesh, in his arrogance, dared to challenge his Maker, seeking divine blood for immortality and thus invoking divine wrath. Witnessing humanity's endless sins, the Creator decreed the destruction of Sumerian civilization with a world-ending flood to cleanse all life."
The sky trembled; the earth moaned. Across Uruk, terrified screams rose into madness. Some, driven insane by fear, knelt in hysterical prayer.
"God proclaims: All humanity are sinners!"
"Repent! God's punishment will crush our bones!"
"The Great Flood will sweep the earth clean!"
Amid this chaos, a young man bearing a blood-soaked bundle rushed forward, dropping to his knees before Xu Zhi. Unwrapping it, he revealed a severed head—the head of Enkidu, the Forest King.
"O great wise giant, forgive us!" he whispered, trembling uncontrollably.
Xu Zhi understood instantly: among the three kings who had challenged him, only Enkidu had refused violence. The young man—Utanapishtim—pressed himself prostrate against the earth, his voice filled with desperate sincerity. "We Sumerians are not utterly savage. Enkidu offered his life to demonstrate our sincerity. When divine judgment descends, I beg you—grant Sumer one final chance for survival."
Xu Zhi exhaled slowly. He had never intended to annihilate all life—only to punish those who defied reason and embraced barbaric arrogance. Now, faced with genuine remorse, he felt his resolve soften.
"Build an ark from the World Tree," Xu Zhi commanded gently. "Gather at least one pair of each species, collect seeds, preserve records of all knowledge, and bring those who share Enkidu's heart. Board this vessel immediately—I will soon unleash the Flood."
With those final words, Xu Zhi turned and departed. Behind him, the gathered people erupted into shouts of relief and fervent praise.
"We have been defeated—but not destroyed. The spark of civilization still burns!"
"Praise the mercy of our Creator!"
"Thanks be to Enkidu, who showed the Creator our sincerity!"
Tears streaming down his face, Akkad hastily inscribed the last entry:
"Moved by Enkidu's sacrifice and compassion, the Creator showed mercy to Sumer, instructing Utanapishtim to build Noah's Ark and escape the coming cataclysmic Flood."
Minutes later, within the vast cosmic sandbox, Xu Zhi retrieved a high-pressure water cannon from his garden. Though mere moments passed for him, one hundred and twenty days sped by rapidly in the miniature world below. The immense banyan—the great World Tree—had been felled, and atop its remains stood an enormous ark loaded with seeds, animals, and preserved knowledge from every corner of the world.
Xu Zhi raised the water cannon and released a powerful torrent of water toward the region of the city-states. Trees toppled thunderously, monumental walls collapsed, and fleeing beasts dashed in panic before being swallowed instantly by the deluge.
The heavens and earth became one color—a boundless, relentless white.
"God saw humanity's wickedness upon the earth and unleashed a Great Flood to destroy all life."
From atop the ark, Utanapishtim and his followers gazed in stunned awe as endless sheets of water cascaded from the heavens, sweeping across their world. All that remained above the vast, boundless ocean was the solitary ark, drifting alone atop an endless white sea, as every other living being vanished beneath the unstoppable fury of the Flood.