"Since you've managed to reach me, I shall grant you the honor of witnessing my finest collection."
Gilgamesh raised his chin, a faint glimmer of approval in his eyes. To endure this long under his bombardment was worthy of, at the very least, recognition.
The Conqueror King offered a bitter smile. He had chosen the distance when summoning Gilgamesh into his Reality Marble. If only he had placed the golden king closer from the outset… perhaps this battle would not be so desperate. But such a choice would have tarnished his honor.
For Iskandar, conquest was meant to be straightforward, upright. He could not bear to win through guile, not against a fellow king. To return to the Throne of Heroes mocked as "the King of Conquerors who tricked the King of Heroes"—such shame he could not abide.
Where then would he place his pride?
The Conqueror drew his sword, warriors rallying to his side for a final charge. If they could reach close quarters, there was still hope for victory. But the golden ripples of Gilgamesh's treasury shimmered across the sky—few in number this time, yet each unbearably massive.
From the heavens, a black blade descended like divine judgment, not hurled but cleaving down with irresistible weight. It was less a weapon than a mountain falling.
The Mountain-Cutting Sword.
There was no chance to dodge. All the Conqueror's men could only rely on their own strength.
The colossal blade struck, exploding the desert into a choking storm of dust.
Gilgamesh, unperturbed, swept his hand and the golden light scattered the haze. He did not believe the Conqueror could be slain so easily.
And he was right.
A flash of thunder split the storm. Iskandar tore the dust apart with sheer force, cloak whipping in the wind, a thin cut bleeding across his brow. He grinned, unbowed.
"Yo!! Golden King! Here I am, before you!"
Gilgamesh smirked. A golden ark emerged from his treasury, a vessel that hovered with divine brilliance.
Iskandar's eyes hardened. He knew Gilgamesh sought the sky. In answer, he summoned his own chariot, Zeus's thunder rolling in its wheels. With a command, it surged forward, ramming the golden ark head-on in a crash of lightning.
Thunder burst across the battlefield. Gilgamesh merely pulled back a distance, curling his lips into a disdainful smile.
"So be it. If I cannot take to the skies, I'll crush you here."
His eyes gleamed with arrogance. "King of Conquerors, I acknowledge you. That charge was worthy. But you face me, Gilgamesh, King of Heroes. Against so many who would call themselves kings, only I may draw forth the greatest of treasures. Watch as I tear your world apart!"
From his treasury, Gilgamesh produced a strange golden key. He raised it high, twisting it with deliberate grace. A sharp click rang out, impossibly loud, echoing across the Conqueror's Reality Marble as if the very world had been unlocked.
Red, crystalline veins erupted skyward, pulsing with catastrophic power. The weight of their presence alone pressed upon the battlefield, halting even Iskandar's fearless stride. The veins contracted toward the key, merging into a weapon that was no mere sword but an authority incarnate.
Ea.
The Sword of Rupture.
"Awaken, Ea!" Gilgamesh's voice thundered like prophecy. "The stage is set—let all who gaze upon you bow before your power!"
The segmented blades of Ea twisted, rotating against each other. From their motion erupted a storm of red energy, spiraling with destructive force. The land itself split, the desert cracking as though the earth's crust were tearing apart.
The Reality Marble trembled. Fissures opened beneath Iskandar's army, swallowing soldiers by the thousands into yawning voids. Black chaos devoured everything it touched. The world itself groaned beneath Ea's rejection, crumbling toward collapse.
"At the end of judgment," Gilgamesh declared, "my sword shall rend creation itself! Receive it—Enuma Elish, the Star of Creation that Splits Heaven and Earth!"
The storm swept outward. The sky shattered. The land collapsed.
As the crimson maelstrom consumed all, Aslan and Balin rushed to Merlin's side, seizing his shoulders.
"Merlin! Hurry! Use your illusions—anything—to protect us!"
For once, the magus's smile faltered. His face grew grim as he watched the Reality Marble unravel before Ea's might.
"This… this is the first time I've ever seen a world forcibly destroyed," he whispered. Then, louder: "Hold tight! The incantation is too long—I'll skip it! I'll do everything I can to shield us, but I can't promise salvation. If the worst comes…" His eyes hardened. "Then I'll return directly to Avalon's Tower of Paradise."
He forced a crooked grin, even as the storm raged. "After all, you are Heroic Spirits, born of the Throne—you'll endure. But me? If my consciousness is erased here, I'll truly die. And truth be told…" His voice trailed off as the crimson storm swallowed the horizon. "…I'd rather not experience that particular fate."
-End Chapter-
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