"Fou! (The final battle's drawing near. Looks like our chats will have to wait until after.)"
"(I hope you'll watch over their journey, see what ending awaits them.)"
"(My deepest thanks to everyone in Hamelin who's walked with us this far. Don't forget the spirit of 'Merlin, you got what you deserved' and that beautiful killing intent—hold it close.)"
"(Until we meet again. Once Orléans is done, let's talk. I'll sleep nestled among the ladies. —May you all become as beautiful as me and meet equally splendid… assets.)"
Solitude.
"—The wyverns are gathering. They must sense the air of our final battle."
In the dead of night at the base, Gilgamesh gazes at Orléans' castle, swirling a wineglass.
For now, he lets half his soul slumber, relinquishing control to act as a mere vessel. Tomorrow is the decisive battle—nothing less than peak condition will do.
He wants the Hero King to rest and revel freely, if only as a token of gratitude.
"Hmph. Don't bore me, at least. Ever heard the proverb, 'a cornered rat bites the cat'? No, of course you haven't. Ignorant country girl—too unlearned to know it, hahaha!"
The vessel laughs gleefully. His verbal sparring is unmatched, a repertoire that leaves one in awe.
In this tranquil moment, a familiar voice breaks through.
"You're in high spirits, Hero King. Have a moment?"
Jeanne's clear voice prompts a begrudging glance.
"What is it, country girl? Up past your bedtime? Hardly commendable. Finish your prayers and get to bed."
"I know. …But I really needed to talk now."
Jeanne's… talk?
"…First Marie, now you want to be my night's companion? A straw-scented, scrawny girl, but better than nothing, I suppose."
"Yes, yes, I'm just an uneducated peasant, hmph!" Jeanne pouts, plopping down nearby.
"What, you're self-aware now? Boring. Your shelf life as a toy's running out."
"I figured out reacting just makes you happy."
"Hah! Well noticed. A sliver of wisdom at last. Looks like the fat on that aphrodisiac-scented, slovenly body finally reached your brain."
"—Tch, enough…! Gilgamesh, you…!"
"Outwitting me? You're 4,000 years too early. Come back in the Age of Gods."
Hahaha, he downs his wine. The taste is a bit off, but the heady buzz feels good.
"…It feels like ages since we met. So much has happened…"
"For me, it's been lackluster. But as a start, it's passable. The foes led by that little girl were small fry. They lacked the right to face me."
"…Your words are sharp, but that overflowing confidence gave us strength."
Jeanne smiles, hand on her chest, radiant.
"Thank you, Hero King Gilgamesh. Fighting shoulder to shoulder with you is my pride."
That dazzling, sparkling smile—he'll never forget it. Not ever.
Even if this Jeanne fades.
"You lack learning but have manners, it seems. I thought oppression and tyranny were your master's only talents, but they taught you some refinement."
"Yes. Our Lord always watches over us."
"Hmph. Keep pandering to your idle master, then. A narrow-minded god who punishes those who don't worship them? I'd rather not."
"You believe only in yourself, don't you?"
"Naturally. That's the path I chose."
He drains the wine with a gulp.
"…Will we win?"
Jeanne murmurs softly.
"What, the musclehead's doubting her path now? A bit late, you fool."
"N-No, that's not it. …This battle holds humanity's future."
The fight for humanity's survival. The restoration of the Singularity.
Lose, and humanity's extinction is certain. History will burn to ash.
"Even in life, I never fought for humanity's future. …I might be scared."
Jeanne clenches her fists.
She's called a fortress, but her heart is real. Its strength makes it hard to notice, hard to understand.
"Can I—can we win?"
"Who knows."
The vessel cuts her off coldly.
"Why fret over what tomorrow reveals? Bone-deep fool, you flag-waver."
"What?!"
The Hero King laughs, a cruel, amused smirk.
"All will be judged tomorrow. If your steps and efforts were true, you'll win. If not, you'll lose. That's all. Fight freely—losing only means humanity's end."
"That's not so simple—"
"It is. Fear destruction? Then resist and win. That's the deal—hm."
He downs more wine.
"Think of it this way: tomorrow's fight isn't ours alone. All of humanity's lives are at stake."
The king speaks.
"That makes it easier, no? If we fall, not just our lives but all of humanity's vanish."
That pride, that way of being.
"No need to worry. Become the evil against all life in this world. To bear the world means facing it alone."
He points the glass at Jeanne, wine splashing the ground.
"When you lose, all life vanishes like dew. The only one to judge your failure—is you."
It dawns on him, etched into his soul: this is the perspective of a king, standing at a height none can blame.
"…You bear it all, don't you?"
"Of course. Listen, Ruler: a hero carries everything in their sight."
"All the world? I've borne it long ago."
A tremor runs through his soul.
This king's grandeur, his nobility… he's truly in awe.
He's genuinely glad.
To be reborn as this great king. To glimpse the world he sees.
Unknowingly, he's offering heartfelt thanks.
"…I could never reach such heights."
"Naturally. A flag-waver like you suits the lowliness of being questioned by many."
Hahaha, the vessel laughs.
To bear the world means facing it alone. Deciding everything yourself.
He carves the king's words into his soul.
Then he'll have no regrets. His choices, his decisions—he'll feel, see, and decide as he pleases.
That way of life… he believes it will one day become his "name."
The king's pride has polished another facet of his nameless soul.
"Come, it's late. Sleep. I won't hear excuses about collapsing from overwork. That's for Chaldea's lot."
"…Yes. Thank you. I'll never regret this."
"Good. Strive like the commoner you are. —Oh, and a parting gift."
He points at Jeanne.
"At least dress properly if you're to be my flag-bearer."
"Wha—?"
Jeanne's clothes shift.
From purple to white, her tied hair flows free, unresisting.
A pure white saint stands revealed.
"This form—"
"You're a Ruler, aren't you? Here, I'll restore what was taken."
He snaps his fingers.
"Eek—! Something's… on my back—! This is—!"
Jeanne gasps in shock.
"Command Spells—! Hero King, how do you—?!"
"Who do you take me for?"
He snorts.
"I'm Gorgeous, the Hero King. A stock of one, two, or eight Command Spells is only natural."
"…I'm so glad you're not our enemy."
"Even as an ally, I wouldn't normally do this. This is an exception among exceptions. —I sense pure respect and reverence from somewhere."
Hahaha, the Hero King laughs.
He's unbeatable, this king.
"It was taken from you. No fault in restoring it. —Strive, Ruler. Tomorrow's outcome rests on you."
"Yes. Thank you, Hero King. …Please, rest well."
"Later, then. …Time for me to sleep…"
The Hero King closes his eyes, drifting into slumber.
He vows to make choices worthy of this vessel.
Until his consciousness fades, he mulls it over.
----------------------------------
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