We've been attacked by beasts before… but nothing like this!"
"Run!"
"There's no escaping something like that! It's… it's bigger than our entire village!"
"We're no larger than a strand of its hair!"
The Bugapes fled in terror, scrambling across the earth like ants beneath a boot. Many simply collapsed, overwhelmed by fear, weeping or frozen in place.
But amid the chaos, one young Bugape stood firm. Eyes wide, fists clenched, he stared defiantly into the sky.
"You… are you going to eat us too?" he shouted. "Your kind already killed my father… my mother… my brother… Why are we so weak!?"
Ethan paused, caught off guard by the tiny creature's voice. He looked down from his towering height, surprised by the bravery—or maybe the desperation—radiating from such a small thing.
So be it, he thought. I choose you.
He slowly extended his massive hand and gently lifted the Bugape from the ground.
The young one froze.
His mind went blank.
He felt as if he'd been placed on the surface of a continent—a palm that stretched endlessly beneath him. When he looked up, he saw two blazing eyes, radiant like suns, burning through the mist that shrouded the colossus's face. The air shimmered around him, alive with divine light.
The Mother Hive had veiled Ethan's true features in a haze of sacred brilliance. To the Bugapes, his face was unknowable. To them, he was not a being—they were in the presence of a god.
Ethan regarded him calmly.
"Gilgamesh," he said. "Do you want to change everything?"
The Bugape's eyes widened. He shouted, startled, "Y-You can talk! You can actually understand me!? Are you… are you a god!? A thinking god!?"
Then he hesitated, his small body trembling.
"You called me... Gilgamesh?"
Ethan answered quietly, "Names are an expression of thought. Of intelligence."
He held Gilgamesh up to eye level.
The tiny Bugape looked into eyes brighter than the moon and sun. The heat from the titan's gaze seemed to warm his skin, even from miles away.
"We can talk," Gilgamesh whispered. "That means we're the same species… doesn't it? So why didn't you save us? You're clearly powerful enough! You could have saved everyone!"
To the Bugapes, Ethan was a "thinking beast." And that was fine with him.
He carried the young one across the landscape. Trees collapsed beneath each step. Rivers splashed and split. The earth itself bowed under his weight.
From the cradle of Ethan's palm, Gilgamesh saw the world as no one ever had—from above.
And then a voice like thunder echoed from the heavens.
"Look closely, Gilgamesh. Before me, all creatures are equal. You, the birds, the fish, the trees... no one is special. Why should I save you alone, just because you can speak?"
Gilgamesh opened his mouth… but no answer came.
His small fists tightened.
"Then why?" he cried. "Why did you come to us at all!?"
Ethan's voice was calm, measured.
"No one will save you. Don't expect it. If you wish to survive—then save yourself."
He paused, then added, "But… I will give you a gift. The means to do so. The Method of Civilization."
Gilgamesh blinked. "What… what is that?"
From Ethan's hand, he gazed down on the land—on the earth beneath the clouds, spread out like a painting. Herds of beasts fled in terror. Forests trembled.
It was breathtaking.
Unfathomable.
"What is civilization?" he asked again, almost reverently.
Ethan thought for a moment. Then he answered:
"Civilization is fire. Civilization is knowledge. Civilization is order. Civilization is the greatest weapon any intelligent species can possess."
Gilgamesh whispered to himself, "A force… to protect ourselves?"
Ethan returned to the canyon.
He placed the young Bugape on his shoulder and took out a small potted juniper tree from his pack. With care, he planted it in the center of the Bugapes' territory.
In the sandbox, the 60-centimeter tree was a towering divine entity—its twisting trunk reached the clouds, an ancient thing that looked carved from the bones of the world itself.
"This is the Divine Tree," Ethan declared. "If you want the power of civilization, climb it. This is my test to you—the Test of Wisdom and Courage."
At the summit of the Divine Tree, Ethan placed three objects:
– A miniature sword forged from metal, gleaming with engraved patterns.
– A single match soaked in kerosene.
– A capsule filled with fluid drawn from a termite queen.
He named them:
"The Three Treasures of Civilization."
> "The Sword of Damocles—civilization's shield. The line between beast and man is the tool."
"The Torch—civilization's fire. The first step is mastering flame."
"And the Blood of the Conqueror—poison to all but the strongest. Survive it, and gain unmatched power."
"Climb the Divine Tree," Ethan told Gilgamesh. "Claim the Three Treasures. If you wish to change your people's fate—prove it before the flame dies."
He gently placed the young warrior on the ground, then turned and walked away—his colossal form shaking the mountains with each step.
Once outside the sandbox, Ethan gave the command:
"Accelerate time. One hundredfold."
---
The realm warped.
The match, which could burn for thirty seconds, would now burn for several days.
Animals became afterimages—aging and dying in a blink. Trees grew, withered, and vanished. The Divine Tree towered in fast-motion, like an eternal spire.
To Ethan, the Bugapes moved like flickers of light.
But inside that world, days passed.
---
Ethan raised his binoculars.
At the base of the Divine Tree, Gilgamesh had gathered his people.
They stared upward with grim resolve—and began to climb.
From Ethan's perspective, their ascent happened in seconds. He saw them fall, tumble, rise again. Again and again. After the ten-second mark, they reached the summit.
But for them?
It had been a grueling journey of blood, sweat, and resolve.
Gilgamesh, sword in hand, stood atop the canopy. His black hair whipped in the wind. He raised the blade high, shouted something that Ethan couldn't hear—and disappeared down the trunk in a blur of motion.
Ethan frowned.
"Hive, what did he say?"
The Hive Mind replayed the moment, translating Gilgamesh's words:
> "To think a being like the Great Beast of Wisdom exists—towering beyond comprehension!"
"But we too possess wisdom! One day, we will stand beside that titan! Every member of our tribe will wield this divine power! The beasts of the world will kneel before our might!"
"I will lead our people to the summit. And we will spread the fire of civilization across this world!"
---
That moment became legend.
Thousands of years later, deep beneath the ruins of humanity's first empire—the brief, glorious reign of ancient Sumer—archaeologists uncovered a long-forgotten stone tablet.
Etched into its surface was the opening of an epic called Genesis:
> "The Great Beast of Wisdom stood ten thousand feet tall, wreathed in light. It walked among mountains, shaking the world with every step. From its hand came the Divine Tree, and upon that tree, the young hero Gilgamesh received the Three Treasures of Civilization: The Torch. The Sword. And the Blood of the Conqueror."