Following Gilgamesh's command, the ripples of the King's Treasure began to twist. Countless priceless artifacts, like machine-gun fire, streamed forth in thin, unpredictable lines, ceaselessly assailing Roland at the center.
This time Gilgamesh did not hold back. He unleashed the originals of countless treasures without reservation. No matter what curse Roland used or what defense he mounted, Gilgamesh would pierce through and see the truth.
Even Saber was shaken by the sight. Such overwhelming firepower was enough to annihilate everything. It was impossible to imagine any life surviving within it. The best course would have been to unleash the full might of his holy sword and escape the encirclement immediately.
But Roland did not retreat. He simply met Gilgamesh's glare with an arrogant smile and released a chilling laugh.
"Fool! Witness it now, the true power of Killer Queen is dominion over the world itself!"
"Killer Queen!"
The golden rain of Noble Phantasms fell like a storm of meteors, but the instant Roland made his declaration, they vanished like illusions torn from a dream.
Gilgamesh felt the mana he had already poured into the barrage return to him in full. It was not replenishment from his Master it was as though it had never been spent at all.
His rage had reached such extremes that it gave way to a cold clarity. He looked at Roland, still unscathed, and dared not waste time on shock. Even so, the astonishment in his eyes could not be hidden.
Abruptly, he thrust his hand into a golden ripple. This time, he would not wait. He seized what he had once longed for, then abandoned, the one thing that might give him any chance of survival, of getting out of this alive.
Five seconds. From the moment the barrier opened to the instant he drew forth his choice, only five seconds passed.
Normally, that would be an eternity for him, time enough to slice apart any insolent fool who stood against him. But now, with the executioner's shadow looming above him, those five seconds felt agonizingly short.
"Five seconds…are far too short!"
In this holy grail war, He had reunited with his dearest friend after an eternity, ready to continue their battles and their promises. He could not...no....would not, die here before fulfilling that oath with Enkidu.
With desperate ferocity, Gilgamesh seized the strange herb from his treasury and shoved it into his mouth, casting aside all pride like a starving beast.
And then
Fate has decided, Gilgamesh's choice bad been correct because in the next moment
His body was flung back as though struck by an invisible cataclysm. No trace of the attack could be seen, no source of the blow discovered. Yet Gilgamesh felt every impact with brutal clarity.
The ornate golden armor that crowned his pride shattered instantly, riddled with holes before collapsing into worthless scraps.
The assaults did not end there. With only his body left to shield him, each strike burrowed into flesh, splintered bone, shredded organs. In less than a heartbeat, he was torn apart dozens of times. His soul's very core cracked under the strain.
But the herb he had swallowed transmuted into a burning current within him, fusing with his body, becoming a near-absolute bulwark. It was the elixir of immortality, the fruit he had once sought across the world. Though he had missed it in life, it now lay in his treasury. It granted him temporary undying flesh, letting him endure death again and again.
Yet immortality was not without price. He endured agony of annihilation beyond imagination, limbs pulverized then forced to knit together, organs churned into sludge then reborn. In the span of mere seconds, Gilgamesh died a dozen times over.
When at last the herb's power waned and the healing slowed, the storm of attacks ceased.
Blood-soaked, his bare chest and mangled flesh laid bare, Gilgamesh stood barely upright. His golden hair, once aflame with brilliance, now hung heavy and matted in red, part charred, part gone.
And yet, his expression had calmed. He gazed at Roland not with arrogance, but with awe.
For the first time, the Hero King who sneered at all of creation, the one who denied the rule of gods with dignity showed hesitation…perhaps....even fear.
Even with his all-seeing wisdom and Clairvoyance, Gilgamesh could not fathom this unknown power. As his eyes locked onto Roland's emotionless pupils, a tremor ran through his entire being.
"I never imagined such a revelation could exist in this world," he admitted. "Even when I began to suspect, even when I confirmed the rules for myself, witnessing it with my own eyes defies reason."
He wiped his brow with his hand, uncertain whether it was sweat or blood that stained his fingers, then slowly rose once more.
Before his eyes, Roland no longer resembled a mere man. He was a demonic dragon, noble, terrible, suffused with incomprehensible law and unassailable might. His soul radiated such majesty that even Gilgamesh could only acknowledge its terror.
Even by the harshest judgment, the radiance of this soul was breathtaking.
"How could a ritual born of fools attract the attention of gods such as yourself from another world?"
Against such an opponent, no carelessness could be afforded. No arrogance could remain. His blind arrogance before had cost him dearly, perhaps fatally.
Roland only sighed. "Rather than being attracted, I would say I was pulled in. But perhaps that, too, is fate."
Gilgamesh gave a grim nod. "Fate, then. Even if I know the end, I will not bow meekly. Forgive my arrogance from. As I show the world, this would not be the first time I slay the divine."
He lifted a golden key. A crimson lattice unfurled like branching roots, twisting until it solidified into a weapon unlike any other.
It bore a hilt and guard, but its blade was no simple edge. Three cylindrical segments intertwined into a spiraling form, endlessly rotating.
This was the primal treasure, the origin of creation, the blade that sundered the world to begin existence itself. To wield it was to wield the foundation of power.
Gilgamesh called it the Sword of Rupture, but no name could could truly expose its majesty.
This sword was drawn only for the worthiest foes, or when his wrath burned absolute. Today, however, there was another reason.
Today, he sought to challenge destiny itself.
With surging mana, the blade's spiral quickened. Veins of searing crimson light raced across its surface until a storm of dark red wrapped it whole.
"Ea, resound with all your might!"
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