"......"
"Hoh... You have parried them all once again?"
Behind the golden-haired sovereign, sixty-four ripples of gilded light ebbed and flowed like a tide.
The man was steadily increasing the scale of his assault. First sixteen, then thirty-two. Now, sixty-four weapons had been unleashed simultaneously.
What defied belief was not merely the number, but the fact that every single projectile was a Noble Phantasm.
This relentless deluge of legendary armaments made it impossible to bridge the distance between us.
I clicked my tongue, but the man merely nodded as if he had reached a realization while observing my struggle.
"—So, that is how it is. It riles Us to admit it, but it seems only the most exquisite of Our treasures—the highest of the high—can pierce your hide."
"....Tch."
He had already discerned my limits. As if to confirm my fears, new Noble Phantasms began to emerge from the ripples behind him.
Judging by the sheer density of the magical energy radiating from them, they were all at least A-rank or higher.
As I braced myself against the rising tension, I sensed a Servant's presence approaching from above. This signature belonged to...
"—Forgive my delay, Master. And you..."
It was Medea. Having arrived late after explaining the situation to Shirou and Rin, she offered a swift apology to Illya.
Her expression stiffened the moment her eyes fell upon the golden-haired man. No doubt her discerning eyes had recognized just how absurdly powerful an existence he was.
I spoke to her without breaking my gaze from the enemy.
"Caster. Protect Illya. I shall handle him."
"—Are you certain?"
I nodded.
Seeing my resolve, Medea grasped Illya and signaled a retreat, teleporting several paces back.
The golden king watched their departure, his lips curling into an amused, mocking sneer.
"Hoh. You intend to face Us alone?"
"A man like you... I am more than enough to deal with you."
"Ha! Then by all means, mongrel—prove it!"
The air shrieked as every Noble Phantasm launched at once. I swung my blade with rhythmic precision, the clang of metal on metal ringing out as I parried the storm.
Yet even as I deflected the final blade, the King did not relent. The number of golden ripples multiplied again.
One hundred and twenty-eight apertures now aimed their lethality directly at me. Just how many of these treasures did he possess?
Faced with the overwhelming violence of those numbers, I reached for a sword that had embedded itself in the ground nearby, intending to dual-wield for defense.
But before my fingers could close around the hilt, the weapon dissolved into golden motes of light and vanished. I scanned the area only to see the other parried Noble Phantasms vanishing in the same manner.
The King's voice thundered with divine indignation.
"How dare you lay your filthy hands upon Our treasures!"
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Slice!
I defended with everything I had, but against such an overwhelming rain of steel, a breach in my guard was inevitable.
A stray blade grazed my forearm, leaving a shallow laceration. Blood began to seep out, staining my right hand crimson.
"—Berserker!"
Illya cried out in alarm, her voice thick with worry. I raised my bloodied hand slightly, signaling for her to stay back and remain calm.
"....Ha. Such an absurd bombardment of Noble Phantasms, paired with the arrogance of a sovereign. There is only one hero in legend who fits such a description. I see now. You are the Heroic King of Babylonia."
"Hoh? You have deduced Our True Name? Very well, We shall grant you a modicum of praise for your insight. But what of it? We have no weaknesses for you to exploit."
"Perhaps. But you have made one grave mistake, King of Heroes."
I stared at the vanishing light of his weapons once more.
"I have yet to exert my full strength. From this moment on, I shall show you..."
...exactly what I am capable of.
Gilgamesh looked momentarily incredulous at my declaration. Then, he clutched his stomach and erupted into a boisterous, condescending laugh.
"Haha! Hahahahahahahaha! To think a mere mongrel would claim to be holding back against Us! Fine, then. Show Us! Let Us see this 'full strength' of yours!"
The golden ripples behind him began to expand exponentially.
Two hundred, three hundred, four hundred... The growth only slowed once the number of apertures reached five hundred.
Within each portal, a legendary weapon sat chambered, locked onto me. It was a display of absolute, crushing violence.
The King of Heroes made his final decree.
"For the insolence of your pride, We shall personally deliver your judgment!"
The massed weaponry fired. But even in the face of certain doom, a smile touched my lips.
"....I have already analyzed your pattern, King of Heroes."
"....What?"
Grip.
I reached out and caught the first projectile—a sword aimed directly for my head—mid-flight. Using it, I batted away the next incoming blade.
Medea and Illya watched with wide, shocked eyes. It was one thing to dodge weapons launched at speeds exceeding bullets, but to catch them and use them with such terrifying technical mastery was another realm entirely.
Normally, there was a one-second window from the time a weapon struck the ground to the moment it returned to the treasury.
If one accounted for travel time, that window shrank to less than half a second. To swing and discard multiple weapons in succession should have been a physical impossibility.
However, one only needs a single moment to strike. And the weapons flying toward me were limitless.
Which meant that while each weapon was temporary, my arsenal was effectively infinite. I seized the flying treasures one by one, swinging them in a blur of motion.
The type of weapon mattered not. When one reaches the sublime heights of martial mastery, the specific form of the tool becomes irrelevant.
To cut, to thrust, to strike—these are the universal pillars of combat. Guided by this fundamental truth, I discarded each vanishing blade the moment I finished a swing, instantly catching the next to pave my way forward.
Seeing me close the distance through his prized storm, Gilgamesh's face twisted with incandescent rage.
"—Insolence... How dare you... CURSE YOU! CURSE YOU!"
He was beyond fury. That a commoner would dare lay hands upon his hoard without permission was the ultimate blasphemy.
And yet... he could no longer deny the truth. The man before him was a true hero. Even now, the knight continued to pierce through the golden rain, drawing ever closer.
Gilgamesh acknowledged him. He was worthy of death, but perhaps not yet worthy of Ea. Thus, the King reached into his treasury and pulled forth a single, specific blade—a gesture of respect for the opponent's skill, however begrudging.
The Original Sin—Marduk.
The prototype of Gram and Caliburn, one of the few treasures the King had personally named. Gilgamesh drew the sword with a flourish.
"....We recognize you. You have proven yourself a hero. Therefore, rejoice! We shall grant you the honor of perishing by this blade!"
To the man known as the White Dragon of Britain, the dragon-slaying attribute within this sword would be a lethal, inevitable end.
The blade of Marduk began to pulse with a terrifying radiance as the King flooded it with prana. Once the energy reached its peak, Gilgamesh roared.
"Suffer the sleep of death! [Marduk]!!!"
A torrential beam of dragon-slaying light surged toward me. I countered immediately, channeling my own prana into Twilight. The holy sword responded, erupting into a blinding glow.
"....Though it is now lost, this was once the light of protection that guarded our utopia. The final fragment of Mystery that remained."
Twilight reached the threshold of its power, shining like a dying star. I leveled the radiant blade at the encroaching destruction.
"Holy sword of the star that defended our ideals! [Excalibur Twilight Alternative]!!"
The released True Name collided with the King's light, and the world dissolved into white.
------------------------
The power balance is truly shattered.