A heavy silence filled the grand chamber of the Paragon Circle. The room itself was a relic of ages past—vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of forgotten empires, stone pillars that bore the weight of history itself. At the heart of the chamber stood an obsidian table, long and unyielding, around which sat the greatest minds, warriors, and rulers reincarnated into this era.
Tonight, a new chapter in history was about to be written.
Seated around the table were the world's greatest minds and warriors—reincarnations of legends who had shaped history itself.
At the head of the table, Artemisia Callas, the "Silent Storm", sat with an unreadable expression. Her sharp green eyes, piercing even in the dim candlelight, observed the faces of those present. As the leader of the Paragon Circle, she carried the burden of their unity—a balance that now teetered on the edge of collapse.
Artemisia of Caria—the warrior-queen who had defied empires. Though she had forsaken her past name, the steel in her gaze and the sharpness of her mind remained unchanged.
"The Codex of Rebirth has spoken," she said finally, her voice steady but heavy with implication. "The name has been written. The one who once ruled Uruk walks among us again."
The reaction was immediate.
Nathaniel Graves - once Alexander the Great leaned forward, his fingers tapping against the table in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Though he had yet to utter a word, the air around him crackled with restrained energy. He had always been the most vocal advocate for humanity's evolution—his vision of a united world was well known, and to him, the return of Gilgamesh was not just an event but an opportunity.
Across from him, Darius Cain, "Iron Resistance" who had once been Hannibal Barca—the Carthaginian general who had nearly brought Rome to its knees. His rugged features betrayed irritation.
Darius scoffed, His dark eyes burned with skepticism as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "So the ancient king of Uruk has returned. And we're expected to do what? Kneel?"
"The return of Gilgamesh is not an omen of subjugation," interjected Genevieve Moreau, "Burning Light" once Joan of Arc. Her golden hair shimmered under the chamber's glow, but her expression was firm. "It is a sign. A test of fate."
Ronan Takeda, "Wandering Blade" he had once been Miyamoto Musashi—the wandering swordsman who had never lost a duel.
Ronan let out a quiet breath. "A test… or a warning?" His tone was measured, but those who knew him understood the weight behind his words.
Artemisia exhaled, her patience already being tested. "We do not yet know what kind of man Elias Carter is." She allowed the name to settle in the air—a stark contrast to the grand legend they were discussing. "But the question remains. What is to be done?"
It was then that Isadora Laurent, "Shadow Queen" the modern incarnation of Cleopatra VII, finally spoke, her voice smooth as silk. "We must ensure he aligns with our vision. If we do nothing, another faction will take advantage of his return." She tilted her head toward Nathaniel. "And I doubt some of us would be so willing to leave him unguided."
Nathaniel smirked but said nothing.
Across the table, Lillian Karras, "Seer of Knowledge" reincarnation of Hypatia of Alexandria. Lillian adjusted her glasses, deep in thought. "The past does not dictate the present, but it influences it. We should not treat Elias Carter as simply a reincarnation of Gilgamesh—he is his own person. If we force a path upon him, we risk repeating history's mistakes."
Victor Han, "Unseen General" the tactician who had once been Sun Tzu. Victor had remained silent throughout the debate, his sharp gaze analyzing every word spoken. Now, he leaned forward, his fingers steepled. "Gilgamesh was a ruler of immense power. But power without discipline is chaos. If he cannot prove himself worthy, then what is to stop another Enkidu from rising against him?"
That statement carried weight.
For Gilgamesh's legend was not just one of triumph—it was one of hubris.
Artemisia closed her eyes for a moment, as if centering herself. "We must assess him. Guide him, if possible. But if he proves to be a danger…" She left the rest unsaid.
Darius's lip curled. "And who gets to decide that? You?"
Nathaniel finally spoke, his voice smooth but edged with something colder beneath. "Perhaps the real question is, do we let history repeat itself? Or do we finally take control of our fate?"
A dangerous silence followed.
For all his charm and eloquence, Nathaniel's ambitions had never been subtle.
Genevieve narrowed her eyes. "You speak as though we should shape him into what we want."
Nathaniel turned to her with an easy smile. "Is that not what leaders do?"
Isadora's fingers tapped against the table, her gaze unreadable. "What do you propose?"
Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, exuding casual authority. "We extend an invitation. Bring him before us. Let him understand who we are and what we represent. And then… we see what kind of man he truly is."
Artemisia studied him, her expression unreadable. She knew Nathaniel too well. This was not simply about evaluating Gilgamesh—this was about control.
Still, the logic was sound.
She turned to the gathered Paragons. "Does anyone object?"
There was a murmur of reluctant agreement. Even those who distrusted Nathaniel saw no better course of action.
"Then it's decided," Artemisia concluded. "Elias Carter will be brought before the Paragon Circle."
And so, the fate of Gilgamesh was sealed.
For better or worse.