"Winning is winning. Losing is losing. It's impossible that the Hero King doesn't even have the courage to admit defeat. If so, that's truly contemptible." Arthur smiled with great pride.
As frustrated as I was when I lost the coin pusher competition before, I feel incredibly happy now.
Especially when I see Gilgamesh's livid face.
The duel between the two had been so intense that it attracted a crowd of onlookers.
Among them were many regulars at the arcade—some of whom knew Arthur.
When they heard Gilgamesh's final desperate cry, "You can't even break the top ten records," a few were already tempted to speak up. And now, seeing Arthur's triumphant posture, one of them mercilessly stepped forward.
"Hey, bro, you're wrong. All the top ten records on this game were set by Arthur."
Gilgamesh: "…"
Whether the onlookers were genuinely trying to help Arthur or had simply seized the opportunity to take revenge, the result was the same: Arthur immediately received a death glare from Gilgamesh.
In other words, Arthur had played this game countless times and could probably beat Gilgamesh with his eyes closed.
And considering his "enthusiastic" guidance at the beginning—
"Don't look at me like that. Using your strengths to target the enemy's weaknesses is basic military strategy. No—anything involving competition follows that principle. To put it simply, this is common sense. If you lose, you've only yourself to blame for not having any."
Arthur turned his head away, face flushed.
He really couldn't look Gilgamesh in the eyes—those bloodshot eyes, brimming with murderous intent. It felt like a sword was scraping against his skin. Uncomfortable, to say the least.
"Hmph! A mere cultivator, relying on petty tricks," Gilgamesh scoffed, but didn't argue further.
Arthur raised an eyebrow at the sudden return of his title and his guilty conscience evaporated. "Oh? It seems the most ancient cultivator still refuses to admit defeat. Very well then, choose any game in this arcade. I accept your challenge."
Anger.
Gilgamesh glared at him fiercely.
He knew Arthur had the home-field advantage. If he kept playing, he would likely continue to lose. But Gilgamesh couldn't stomach Arthur's smug attitude. He couldn't walk away.
And so began a "competition"—a term used loosely here—that was actually a one-sided slaughter, devoid of suspense and brimming with humiliation.
By the time the sun had set and the new capital began to display the glittering prosperity of modern civilization, the match had ended. Final score: 168 to 5.
At the start, Gilgamesh's face had been twisted with rage. But as the score gap widened to absurd levels, his expression softened—until only a smile remained.
It had been a long time since he'd had this much fun.
Even though human society had become warped and unpleasant over the millennia, it wasn't without merit. At the very least, modern entertainment had given him a new, thrilling experience.
No—it wasn't just the times.
It also depended on the opponent.
Gilgamesh looked at Arthur.
Though she wore a hood that obscured her face, there was no mistaking her beauty.
Absolute composure and intense emotion—two seemingly opposing forces—coexisted in harmony within Arthur. Not a bit more, not a bit less. A natural balance. That presence reminded him somewhat of Ishtar, but the sensation it evoked was wholly different.
A touch of arrogance. A hint of gentleness. And the unshakable pride of a king, etched into every fiber of her being.
"Hahahahaha! King Arthur, was it? I'll remember that. Let me just admit it—you've excited me."
"...Are you an idiot? Why are you suddenly shouting like that?"
Arthur, who had just been deeply immersed in the fighting game, flinched at Gilgamesh's booming laughter.
"Ha, don't worry about it. I'm just delighted that you've delighted me. Feel honored, miscellaneous cultivator—this is praise from the one true king." Gilgamesh, used to Arthur's rudeness by now, waved it off.
Still, after being beaten 168 times, he could laugh and claim he was pleased... As weird as it sounded, this guy—
"Are you a masochist?"
"Hmph! Let's stop here for today. I've had a great time. Don't get yourself killed before the Holy Grail War begins, Arthur." Gilgamesh smiled faintly.
"You don't need to tell me." Arthur snorted. "But you—don't you dare back down before I even make my move."
Neither was willing to yield an inch.
And so, they parted ways.
Originally, Gilgamesh had wanted to take Arthur to the casino for a rematch, but Arthur strongly refused.
First, there weren't any decent casinos in Fuyuki City—the facilities were pitiful.
Second, only an idiot would seek abuse, knowing full well that even Luck A+ couldn't overcome Golden Rule.
"Wow, you're rejecting me? Bold of you! Fine—consider this your parting gift."
In a dim alley, Gilgamesh smiled and snapped his fingers. A golden ripple shimmered in the air behind him.
"With respect and gratitude... proceed."
A scarlet spear emerged.
The moment it appeared, Arthur's body tensed to the limit. An overwhelming threat surged toward him.
It was like confronting a natural enemy.
His gaze sharpened. Wind swirled violently around him.
Some instinct screamed that he mustn't let the spear get anywhere near him.
It was divine.
Damn it. I knew divinity was a debuff!
Expression grim, Arthur materialized a crimson longsword and hurled it without hesitation. The spear's trajectory was disrupted before it could be properly thrown—intercepted by Arthur's blade. Only then did he let out a breath of relief.
"Forgive me for rejecting such a disgusting farewell gift."
"Huh? What was that just now?"
"Hmph. Just one of my collection. The Emperor Sword—Florent. A guy I destroyed once. He reminds me of you, actually," Arthur replied coldly.
The magic sword collided with the spear. The impact was strong enough to obliterate the spear—mission accomplished.
But the demon sword was also sent flying.
Arthur made no move to retrieve it. Nor did he show any hint of regret.
After all, it was just a substitute for the Holy Sword of the Stars.
As a Servant, due to the [Star Sword] skill and his class, Arthur could not wield the true holy sword under any circumstances. Concerned for his safety, the ministers of Britain had sent him this magical sword instead.
But to Arthur, this sword carried no fond memories.
Well—maybe it wasn't technically a Servant's treasure, but in the modern world, it would certainly count as a genuine hero's relic. In other words, priceless.
-End Chapter-
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