Even if it's called combat, there's no need to think too hard about it.
In essence, it's a space where two people think, and it's one cycle of doing what the opponent hates, forcing what you want to do, and neutralizing the enemy.
In other words... combat is where those with stronger egos seize victory and glory. It's a simple story.
And I can assert that nothing stands equal to this existence called the King of Heroes when it comes to imposing one's will.
There is infinite wealth.
There is infinite possibility.
Above all, there is the wisdom to choose.
With all this assembled, the only way to have the rug pulled out from under you would be through carelessness or arrogance.
And this Gilgamesh here has almost none of that due to special circumstances.
An absolute powerhouse, yet with life-sized thinking and sensibilities.
At the point where both can coexist, there's no way he could fall behind ordinary existences.
"You—are you the Servant of those humans?"
"That would be correct. This attire could hardly look like a vagrant's."
Standing before me is—judging from his weapon, I can tell he's a Lancer Servant.
Though covered in haze, a Lancer with countless weapons on his back and monk-like appearance.
...Japanese origin, perhaps? I can't discern the True Name.
Apparently, the Shadow Servant's personal circumstances don't matter. The vessel says there's no need to scrutinize dust that will disappear anyway.
However, the soul dwelling in the vessel is not careless. If we lose, there's no second chance. We're always fighting with our backs to the wall.
"Wandering alone is the height of foolishness. I shall pierce you and display your head to your master."
"Do as you please. If dust that has deviated from a hero's true role can manage it."
...I've noticed anew that when I speak my thoughts, those words get converted into arrogant language and slip from my mouth.
This must be the vessel's pride. Always be an arrogant and insolent king who looks down on everyone.
...It's not that I want to dominate this King of Heroes vessel. What I desire is to polish my soul with this vessel.
To see things from a hero's perspective and act from a hero's viewpoint.
And to protect desperately living lives and guard the future.
So that someday those girls can reach a peaceful future.
When that time comes, I might be able to say I accomplished something. Believing that.
What I, who reincarnated, can do.
"Well then, let's clean up this dust. Don't worry, it'll be over quickly."
From the golden ripples, I draw a different sword from the one that fires beams.
"Bold words, Servant. Now then—I'll take that life of yours!"
The Lancer takes stance and charges straight ahead, his body becoming the spear itself.
The distance that certainly existed becomes zero, and what lies there is lethal range.
A strike unleashed with brute force and vigor approaches my neck without fail.
—But those red eyes saw through its origin, its engagement, everything.
I move my head slightly, avoid the strike, and swing my sword roughly to push the Lancer away.
"Nugh—!"
I can see his shocked expression. Of course.
His full-strength thrust was deflected with minimal movement.
"What's wrong? This neck is still attached, isn't it?"
"What strange body movement you use... Then I'll strike you down with consecutive attacks."
"Hah, you have no 'next.'"
—Fresh blood. And bisection.
"————!!!?"
Even the instant to think "why" is too late.
The Lancer's Spirit Core had already been severed.
"Ah, such a puzzled face you make. Out of pity, I'll explain. This sword, you see, is something that establishes the causality of 'having cut something once it's swung.' Blocking or dodging is meaningless. Because it's 'cut,' the result of 'being cut' follows."
"So that's how—you got my Spirit Core..."
"Precisely. I have no interest in the hot and sweaty act of grappling with flesh. Selecting and drawing a sword is quite laborious."
"Compared to that effort, avoiding such a strike light as a breeze... would be easy, no?"
"—How regrettable...!"
The Spirit Core completely shattered, and the Shadow Lancer dispersed. Though it was an anticlimactic end since there was no time for curses or prayers in that instant.
"...There is only one Lancer who could stand equal to me."
Those words were muttered to no one in particular, but contained a trace of loneliness.
Well, I've successfully taken down the conspicuous Lancer. Next is—
"Alright, let's go with that manageable one."
———
"■■■■■■————!!!!"
"Roar and roar, you beast! A Berserker must be like that!"
With tempest-like pressure and destruction, the Berserker rages.
The next prey I targeted is the Berserker. A mad warrior who abandoned reason.
Muscular and brawny, a rock-like majesty of tall stature and powerful arms. An incarnation of bursting pressure with a physique that surpasses even this vessel's height.
Yeah. I'm glad I didn't bring the Master. Anyone with normal sensibilities would have fainted. The intimidation makes one's body freeze.
Fortunately, this vessel doesn't seem the least bit intimidated. What absurd confidence and ego. If the body is like that, then I can't be overwhelmed either.
"————■■■■■■!!!"
A peerless strike swings down. Incomparably intense destruction blows the ground to smithereens like thin ice.
If my retreat had been delayed, I would have been ground meat. I was saved by a Servant's physical abilities.
"Now, how should I dispose of this?"
Though I said that, surprisingly the method came to mind quickly.
Berserker is a type that sells strength and toughness. I can tell at a glance. Since the limiter called reason has been removed, its rampage is self-evident.
But conversely, having abandoned reason means the delicacy to be mindful of detailed strategies has vanished.
Then there's no problem. Setting aside if there were a Master to be the brains, a mere rampaging beast can be easily ensnared.
I reach into the golden ripples and grasp a golden staff in my hand.
"Mm, this should do."
Confirming the effect, I deliberately expose myself before the Berserker.
"Come on, I'm right here, muscle-head! If you can crush me with those fiber-packed muscles of yours, try it!"
I raise my voice in provocation. The Berserker turning toward me and shattering the ground to close the distance happened simultaneously.
"■■■■■——!!!!!"
The weapon is raised overhead, and death lies ahead in the next instant.
"—Fool, it's you who stepped into a death trap!"
I lightly strike the ground with the staff.
Using that as a signal, countless hands capture the Berserker and hold him up as if an offering to heaven.
"■■■■!!?"
At the same time, an 'altar' is established around the area, rising up.
Taking the form of offering the Shadow Servant as a sacrifice, and then—
"!!!???"
Arms, head, legs, body. Countless hands writhe as if devouring, scraping away.
"This is the original of Sha Naqba Imuru, a Noble Phantasm of an altar offered to nameless gods. It designates the captured existence as sacrifice and devours that existence."
That overwhelming presence is visibly being lost. Eaten, scraped, gnawed, devoured—losing its traces.
"You must be quite the fine sacrifice. Getting twelve delicious uses instead of two from one mongrel is far too good a deal!"
"■■■■■,■■■■——"
Eventually the Spirit Core is devoured, and the Berserker completely vanishes. Even the slightest lingering trace was greedily slurped up as sacrifice.
"At least next time, get yourself a Master to serve as a head. It's difficult for a beast to win against someone with wisdom."
I exhale and return the staff to the treasury.
Now, I've successfully neutralized the Berserker and Lancer. The next is the real target.
Assassin—if I allow this existence to remain, we can't even have a leisurely conversation. At the very least, I absolutely cannot permit such an abrupt ending as the Master's head falling off in the next second.
"Now, what to do..."
"If it's the Assassin, he's gone. I took care of him."
I turn around at the voice from behind.
"You are—"
"Yo, it's been a while, golden bastard."
Standing there was a blue-haired man wearing a hood and holding a staff.
"—I see, so you're the Caster. Dog."
Apparently someone this vessel knows well.
--
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