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Please, Let Me Ascend to the Throne of Heroes! [58]
🕑 Added 2025-11-04 14:40:06 +0000 UTCThough Rovi’s goals weren't yet fully realized, he already considered himself a man certain to "die." Because of that, he felt lighter—more relaxed now.
Thus, doing some things he truly wished before his "death" felt entirely natural.
“Mmm… Rovi, haven't you slept?”
Lost in thought, Rovi heard a soft, gentle voice from within the room. He raised his eyes—Enkidu emerged, still half-asleep.
En’s green hair was slightly messy, and her loose white robes slipped off one shoulder, gently revealing delicate, soft skin… Her slender waist appeared and disappeared between fabric folds, her graceful legs hidden and revealed like willow branches.
She looked at him curiously.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Rovi answered simply, reaching out naturally to straighten her hair and clothes as she approached. “Come on, let’s visit Goldie.”
“No breakfast?” En tilted her head innocently, becoming quietly obedient beneath Rovi’s touch, a faint blush coloring her exquisite cheeks.
“No need. We have something important to do.”
En remained puzzled.
The gods had all been driven out.
They no longer had enemies.
What could possibly be left to do?
Yet, despite her confusion, En said nothing. She merely grasped the hem of Rovi’s robe gently, following him quietly.
Whatever happened, she would follow Rovi.
Whatever he did, she would support him.
Moments later, in the grand, sunlit palace, motes of dust floated like tiny nebulae, illuminating the curves and angles of the massive stones forming the great hall.
Rovi and En stepped inside. Before they ascended the steps, a cold snort echoed from above.
“Dumping every task upon this noble king while you sneak away to rest—such disrespect from this king’s servant merits death!”
Gilgamesh sat high upon his throne, scarlet eyes narrowed, glaring imperiously at the pair.
He looked exceedingly annoyed.
Understandable—forced to slave away here against his will, who wouldn’t be annoyed?
Worse, the culprit behind this was now strolling in carefreely… Damn it, who was the real king here!?
“‘The world is your garden,’ weren’t those your own words?” Rovi was in high spirits today, no longer bothering to hide his earlier death-seeking attitude—but seeing Gilgamesh always sparked an urge to argue. “Already buckling under pressure? Impossible, right?”
Gilgamesh’s expression darkened further, but before he could retort, another voice intervened: “Lord Rovi, Lady Enkidu.”
“Ah, morning, Vizier Siduri.” Rovi greeted the young female advisor lightly.
“Vizier Siduri, good morning!” Enkidu waved cheerfully, robes fluttering like petals.
Siduri, elegant as ever in her long skirt and delicate veil, stood holding a clay tablet, dedicated as always to her duties.
Rovi and Enkidu approached the throne, taking seats nearby.
“So, instead of staying hidden in your gloomy kennel, you've come to tarnish the radiance of this king’s palace—what do you want?” Gilgamesh glanced sidelong at Rovi.
“Obviously, to help a certain golden chatterbox who only knows insults and boasting.” Rovi sighed theatrically. “Kid, when exactly will you grow up?”
“Insolent mongrel—”
“You aren’t even denying being a kid now? Or do you prefer being called a puppy?”
Gilgamesh predictably lost again.
He fell silent.
Siduri noticed something subtle. Though her king’s expression remained cold, those scarlet eyes—once icy—now held a faint warmth.
Siduri smiled quietly, listening carefully as Rovi continued:
“Siduri, there are several things I'd like your help with.”
Siduri quickly leaned forward: “Lord Rovi, please instruct me.”
“It’s not really an instruction.” Rovi shook his head slightly. “I want to establish official positions, appoint bureaucrats, divide authorities once held by gods, and promote education.”
“Goldie, you always complain managing everything yourself is exhausting,” Rovi glanced toward Gilgamesh. “So why not appoint capable people to help?”
Gilgamesh straightened in his seat.
Siduri’s expression turned serious as well.
Though neither grasped all the specifics of what Rovi suggested, they understood the profound significance hidden within his words.
Despite the gods’ influence, civilization remained primitive, with prosperity largely dependent on environmental abundance rather than governance.
City-states on the Mesopotamian plains, Uruk included, still operated under deeply primitive rule.
All matters were decided solely by the king.
The king, in turn, relied upon priests—since each city-state’s king also led its religion.
Politics, military, and religion blended as one. In these primitive times, faith alone bound society.
Priests merely carried out tasks—the king alone made decisions.
In essence, Gilgamesh was Uruk’s only true official; Siduri counted, at best, as half.
If not, Gilgamesh wouldn’t toil endlessly every day.
But now, the age of gods had passed.
Conditions were ripe.
It was time to abandon the primitive and move forward toward feudalism—
After expelling the gods, the Sage advised the King.
He intended to raise learned individuals from among the people to aid in governance.
He intended to create fixed positions, so each person knew exactly their duties and responsibilities.
He said: the gods once had ranks and separate authorities—now humanity must have the same.
After driving away the gods, the Sage stole wisdom from heaven, gifting it to humanity.
The great, wise King joyfully accepted—and openly praised him—
“Bwahahaha! So even that brain of yours, usually filled only with vulgar insults, actually has such a use!” Gilgamesh laughed heartily. “Very well. This king entrusts this matter to you—Rovi, friend of this king.”
When peaceful, it was "mongrel." When trouble arose, suddenly "friend."
This golden bastard was truly shameless.
Rovi tilted his head slightly. At that moment, a gentle breeze drifted in from outside, triggering a sudden coughing fit.
His body felt weaker than before.
That was fine too.
Then he would use this limited time and perform this task properly.
“Although reaching the Throne of Heroes means regaining my original power, gaining some extra achievements along the way won’t hurt either…”
Rovi felt anticipation stirring.
Establishing official positions, clarifying duties—in his homeland’s terms, this was unquestionably a glorious achievement worthy of being called “laying a foundation for ten thousand generations.”
Only then would the title "Sage" truly fit him.
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This is a fan translation of 求你让我上英灵座吧 by 洛州白马 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
