As Moon descended and Sun rose, the sky over Hemenu saw the Sun burn fiercer than usual, illuminating the earth with bright and unblemished light.
Awakening from rest, Ramses shook his heavy head. In the Royal Palace of the Pharaoh, someone guarded day and night; no annoying buzz of mosquitoes and flies could be heard outside. Yet, as he awoke fully, he always felt as though he had forgotten something.
"It's really old age, I can't even remember dreams clearly," he muttered.
"Huh—La has still not responded to me, and Egyptians continue to struggle amidst deep waters and raging fires."
His face was calm, but upon waking, he was once again faced with cruel reality.
If it were just one or two, or even one or two cities, Ramses thought he could accept such losses.
For the command of La, paying a price was something Egyptians should do; everyone took it for granted. However, recent experiences prompted the Pharaoh of the Nineteenth Dynasty to have some doubts.
Even though the strength bestowed by La upon every Pharaoh still resided in him, it seemed as though all the promises he had once made to the Egyptians had expired.
Divine Oracles had come from Heliopolis, but the divine incarnations foretold had never reached Memphis.
Although the Envoys sent by the Pharaoh to the Holy City adamantly claimed to have witnessed Thoth, God of Wisdom and Script, where had he gone? Shouldn't he have come to Memphis to explain the divine will to the Pharaoh in detail?
"...Speak. What have you come to me for?" he asked.
With a slight shake of his head, Ramses's gaze faintly swept over the ministers who could hardly hide their fatigue.
They had already been waiting for a while, probably not daring to disturb his rest. Heh, one cannot manage a single task, and now suddenly, everyone seemed smarter than the other.
Ramses awaited their response, which was probably going to be a display of their grievances, proving their incompetence with reality... However, as the minister recounted, the Pharaoh's expression grew increasingly grave.
"What did you say, are you sure about what you're saying?" he pressed.
"Resurrection of the dead... Are you accusing the Deity or challenging the faith of all Egyptians!" he exclaimed.
"It is not so, Your Majesty. I too wish this wasn't true, but indeed, the bones of the deceased have crawled out of their tombs and have been reborn, heading towards the Hebrews' dwellings."
Kneeling on the ground, the broad-shouldered Egyptian had a bitter face: "Those who died of the plague did the same, they lost their Life one moment, and the next they were reborn carrying the epidemic."
"The deceased's families thought this was a Divine Miracle, that La had granted new life to the dead. But the result..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone knew what the outcome was like for the living who got too close to the dead.
Death was the only outcome; even the newly dead could become new wraiths. Anger rose again in his heart, and Ramses enunciated each word, "Resurrection... excellent, excellent!"
"Now tell me, in the time you have been waiting for me to wake up, what have you done?" he demanded.
"...Your Majesty, I..."
The answer, of course, was that they had done nothing; they had been waiting for the Pharaoh's command.
However, before the voice could die down, suddenly, a thunderous tremor came from afar, shaking the entire Royal Palace.
The palace quaked, ornaments and vessels crashed to the ground, and guards quickly closed in towards the Pharaoh's direction, trying to ward off this unforeseen disaster.
"Step aside!" he bellowed.
Without heeding the explanations of the incompetents any longer, Ramses II pushed past the guards and strode out of the palace.
In that moment, the Pharaoh silently swore to himself, once this abrupt event was over, he would definitely replace them all, rather than let them continue to display their ineptitude!
Thunder rolled again—!
Without any warning, another explosion sounded, as if the whole world were shaking.
Ramses stumbled, struggling to maintain his balance, and then strode out of the Royal Palace.
Daylight was brilliant, and The Sky seemed unchanged. Standing at the gates of the palace, the Pharaoh gazed towards the direction from where the tremors emanated.
The buildings within the City of Memphis stretched before him, theoretically obstructing his view. But for some reason, as the third tremor came, it felt as though someone was speaking to him, communicating the source of the disaster.
The ground cracked open, and dark red liquid seeped out in strands. The crowd that couldn't dodge in time fell into it, without even a chance to scream.
The City of Memphis seemed to be tearing apart, and countless Egyptians faced Death... The voice in his ear, halfway between reality and illusion, made Ramses feel as though he had truly understood the pattern behind the fissures opening.
"They are chasing, pursuing those who have been resurrected. Such taboo violates the rules of the Mortal Realm; is their existence what has enraged the Gods..." he mused.
His chest heaved; in Ramses's memory, the corpses of the dead were protected by Goddess Nephthys, and their spirits belonged to the afterlife. Any violation of the order of life and death would be incinerated mercilessly by the Sun's Light.
Yet now, the Sun seemed to turn a blind eye to them. Instead, these winding fissures appeared to be pursuing the trail of the dead.
And the source of these fissures... Ramses knew all too well.
"Ha... Summon Merenptah to lead men to the Holy City. I am old now. According to the traditional rules of the Nineteenth Dynasty, he's the next Pharaoh if unexpected events arise," he instructed.
"As for you, prepare the chariot—no, set out at once. You are to accompany me, not one less," he ordered.
Holding the Millennium Scepter belonging to the Pharaoh, Ramses issued his commands calmly. At this moment, he had finally made up his mind.