The alter ego incarnation of Gilgamesh was the purified King of Uruk — a hero who had purged the divine blood from his body and soul, becoming nothing but human. This was an ending that even Enkidu could never have foreseen.
He was the Golden King who never met Enkidu, who resolutely severed ties with the gods, walked his journey alone, and prayed single-mindedly for the perfection of humanity — a "golden" device meant to raise mankind itself to the divine throne.
In Fate/strange Fake, his appearance was due to the divinity within his Saint Graph being completely stripped away by the goddess Ishtar, followed by his Master, Tine, forcing down half a bottle of immortality elixir, which caused him to manifest in the form of a youth.
The most obvious trait of this Gilgamesh was the loss of that overwhelming magical energy — the force that once pierced both the age of men and gods at his initial summoning. Instead, what he radiated was an aura of pure humanity, uncorroded, limitless, and undefiled.
If the Hero King of the past had been cloaked in raw authority, this AE-Gil — "Human Gil" — was someone who evoked deep admiration, stirring reverence from the very depths of one's being.
"You simply wished to meet me?"
Novia knew well that Human Gil had theoretically manifested to oppose Choukai. In the strange Fake framework, Choukai was the "demon king," while Human Gil was the "hero." As for Hippolyta, dispatched at the beginning by the Human Order, she corresponded to Choukai as well.
Perhaps, realizing that Hippolyta could never be a match for Choukai, the Human Order allowed Human Gil to descend.
From their earlier conversation, Novia confirmed his suspicion: AE-Gil had indeed been a failsafe prepared against Choukai. But since the Celestial Bull had already been destroyed by Typhon, and Choukai could no longer devour it to become the Bull of Heaven, the alter ego's appearance should have been unnecessary.
Yet, he had still come — purely out of the desire to meet Novia. That alone explained the strange scene just now. As for another goddess hostile to Ishtar — perhaps, sensing that Ishtar was already gone, she deemed it unnecessary to appear.
After all, the underworld created by the Pale Rider was like a public square: any god with ties to death could freely wander through.
"Yes. I wished to offer my respect to the Great One."
The youth-shaped AE-Gil spoke quietly, weaving his words in rhythm with Novia's tone.
Around him, in the pitch-black underworld, countless prototypes of Noble Phantasms began to stir. They struggled, fused together, and moved in swarms:
What had once been swords.
What had once been bows.
What had once been spears.
What had once been hidden blades.
What had once been shields.
What had once been rings.
What had once been shackles.
What had once been inscribed in books.
Poisons, medicines, necessities...
All of it — offerings.
They were the gifts of Uruk's people, not of others. Prayers for the future, consecrated to the Golden King.
Countless archetypes converged into a single form.
"As proof — we wish to challenge alongside you. You, who resemble me, yet aim to raise humanity to an entirely different height."
AE-Gil extended his arms, and from the rift that opened behind him in the dark, two hands emerged.
The word "hand" conjures instinctive images of creation and destruction. Hands that crafted weapons and tools, hunted prey, shaped pottery and farm tools, improving human life — hands were a symbol of mankind's history.
But Novia knew more. The hands were, in a sense, a sensory organ more vital than eyes or nose, an area of concentrated nerves — a symbol of evolution itself.
In primates, humanity's special place came from the shape of its hands. This view was deeply rooted: not only because they made refined stone tools and bows, not only because the clumsy were eliminated by natural selection, but because the pressure and coordination of the fingers fed information that drove evolution forward.
By Lord El-Melloi II's reasoning, the divine image of hands was that of reaching the six directions, spanning the eight wildernesses.
In Asia, the image of the thousand-armed Kannon represented salvation through infinite hands. To Asura and other war gods, hands were symbols of destruction.
Thus, to wield the hands of a god was to reach information humanity could never touch, to realize an impossible evolution.
And so, it was only natural that AE-Gil wielded hands as his weapon.
"Still — that must wait until you deal with the corrupted hero of the Western Lands. What a pity. Obsessed with revenge, twisting even his original grand ideal... no, for him, revenge itself was that original ideal. The gods of Olympus poisoned even their noblest heroes. Their values are venom to mankind."
"That much is unavoidable. They are gods, after all."
Novea wasn't surprised that AE-Gil and Ishtar both judged the Olympians the same way. Though machine-gods from afar, though they later shed their bodies and cherished mankind broadly, their values remained poison to the individual human being.
Perhaps this was why Juno — the Roman Hera — had wanted Novia to bring Alcides before her. But in the present world, divine descent was difficult, limited at best to possessions like Ishtar's.
"Neither god nor beast. Humanity itself is a poison and a medicine — troublesome to handle. But surely, you have already devised a way. Not simple destruction, I think."
The boy's cheerful words evoked the image of white and golden flowers. Again, he bowed deeply.
"Then, at the end of this Grail War, I shall await our meeting."
Novia watched as AE-Gil slowly faded. Then he asked, almost idly:
"By the way… you don't intend to see Enkidu?"
"That was the Hero King's friend, not mine."
"I think, if he saw you now, it would sadden him deeply."
"That is natural. To the Hero King, Enkidu was a trusted companion. But if he were to meet me, after his sorrow, he would call me thus: a false journey. A 'gold' that does not exist."
AE-Gil paused, as if recalling something. He turned back toward Novia, clasped his hands before his chest as if in prayer, and bowed his head.
"One selfish request: please look after Tine. She is my Master."
And then, in Novia's vision, AE-Gil faded. The underworld shifted, gradually painted over by the colors of the hospital room.
It was only natural: the South American bacteria plaguing Tsubaki had been resolved. As an inheritor of the "bacterial lineage," her future magical potential might well rival Bazett's.
The silver-haired youth sat by her bed, watching the color return to her gaunt cheeks. Soon, she would awaken from her vegetative state. He lingered, however, for a reason.
"You're not coming out?"
He spoke calmly toward the doorway.
The pristine white ward seemed empty aside from Novia, Tsubaki, and the crouched Pale Rider. No response came, even after his voice fell.
"In truth, the Pale Rider told me — that someone was tending to its Master in secret. Someone who called herself Kiara."
Silence.
A long, heavy silence.
The white wall by the doorway almost seemed to bend.
Finally, a soft voice responded:
"…Good day. I am Ciel Kiara, dispatched here by the Church. Here is my identification."
The black-haired girl, realizing she could hide no longer, forced her voice into calmness.
"...Shouldn't it be Sesshōin? Or perhaps Kichijou? Why Ciel?"
"I… I'm sorry. I've never heard of those names."
"...I see."
When Novia first heard from the Pale Rider that Kiara had appeared to aid Tsubaki, he was stunned. Yet on reflection, he realized — in a normal world, her deeds would indeed match those of a saint in the eyes of mankind.
Now meeting her formally, he was struck not by her nature, but by her age. He had imagined a woman past university — but whether younger or older, it mattered little. What mattered was her essence remained intact.
He looked at the black-haired girl and said, suddenly:
"I forgive you. For killing me once."
At that moment, he recalled the words spoken to him in Rome, by the One God:
For your deeds, I forgive you. No matter how many times, I will forgive you. I forgive everything.
Kiara listened in silence.
"After all," Novia continued, "if mankind is a being that lives with sin, and God is goodness, then in His eyes, all humans are equally wicked."
He went on: "At that time — in truth, for anyone — no one willingly accepts death. Whether sinner or not, the condemned always believe they still hold value. No one truly wishes to die."
"Yet by your own words," the girl replied flatly, "you must already have wished for death then."
"Perhaps. Death may bring pain, but that pain is inevitable. Better that I deceive, bear it all alone, endure the suffering born of me — that is the premise of my existence. Perhaps that pain was the very price to be paid for that moment.
If one day I forget this, dismiss it as meaningless, then I will already have been changed without even realizing it..."
Unconsciously, the silver-haired youth smiled faintly. With a trace of regret, he cracked his knuckles, closed his eyes, and chanted quickly:
"Haha — I shall strip from you your eyes, your nose, your ears, your organs, even your bones, yet keep you alive. I'll replace your blood with the poison of the most excruciating death. I'll anchor your soul with regenerating bone so that it can be endlessly drawn upon, drop by drop, to repay your sins. I won't allow a being like you to—"
"AAAHHH! Please don't say any more!!"
The black-haired girl's composure broke. Her face flushed bright red, and she shouted in humiliation at having her "black history" dragged into the open.
Novia opened his eyes, smiling softly, and finished:
"...waste a single part of yourself. So that's what you were, Kiara. Do you still remember me now?"
"...Yes, Lord Novia. I remember you."
Her answer was clumsy, uneasy. To her, Novia had always occupied the position of reverence and yearning — perhaps, to her, he was nothing less than "Adam of Eden."
And yet… now there were other emotions as well.
"Anyway, thank you for helping the Pale Rider look after Tsubaki. If you ever need help, come to me."
Novia rose, ready to leave. He had finished what he came for.
"Um…"
Just as he passed behind her, he felt his sleeve being tugged.
It seemed almost too coincidental. Still, he turned back.
Her lips trembled as if she wished to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Like a lost child unable to say her own name, she lowered her head, the very air around her growing heavy.
Then, a voice came from behind her—
"Kiara-nee said she's been imprisoned by the Church for years. She wants to escape. Big Brother, can you help her? Better yet, take her in. Because Kiara-nee has always been alone."
"…Eh?!"
Kiara realized then that Tsubaki had awakened. She turned, stunned, and saw the girl smiling at her from the bed, giving her a bright thumbs-up.
The girl took a deep breath, straightened her back, her face burning hot, and bit her lip as she nodded sharply.
Perhaps it was the shame of knowing her secret was transparent… or perhaps it was excitement.
"…Is that so?" Novea patted her shoulder and said solemnly, "In that case — come."
As he led Kiara out, Tsubaki smiled faintly from her bed.
In her heart, she thought: So the sharp-tongued Kiara who scolded me in my dreams… has no bite at all against Big Brother.