"My name is Ozymandias, manifesting under the Rider Class. People without light—behold my great works, and bow down before me!"
The solar barque floating in the sky was already imposing enough, but the man's self-introduction sent another ripple of shock across everyone's faces.
Ozymandias—also known as Ramesses II.
Even among the many Pharaohs of Egypt, Ramesses II held a most unique and celebrated place. His life was legendary, his achievements countless. In both war and monumental works, his renown continued to shine even into the present day.
"So even the Sun King himself has appeared?!"
Waver was the first to exclaim, and the others, gazing at Ramesses II, could not help but show awe in their eyes.
Everyone, that is, except one.
Because the Sun King's spectacular entrance had drawn all eyes to him, Gilgamesh—who had claimed the highest perch atop the lamppost first—was clearly displeased.
And the Hero King had only one way of showing displeasure—
"You… who allowed you to defile my skies with this barbaric display?!"
With a flick of his right arm, countless golden ripples burst into existence across the silent night sky.
It was his signature Noble Phantasm—the Gate of Babylon.
And with a wave of his hand, the ripples spat forth an endless stream of treasures, divine weapons of every kind, all hurtling straight for the solar ship.
The Gate of Babylon, said to contain the prototypes of every Noble Phantasm in existence. Each weapon it fired possessed the might of a Servant's Noble Phantasm, and they were inexhaustible.
With this one Noble Phantasm alone, Gilgamesh secured his place as a top-tier Heroic Spirit. Ordinary Servants could never resist—countless had already perished, skewered by his barrage.
Despite that, facing this furious onslaught, Ramesses II didn't even move his feet. He simply snapped his fingers.
"Roarrrrrrr!"
At his side, two sphinxes leapt forth, charging like living war chariots. With a single blow, they smashed aside the nearest lances.
Though each weapon from Gilgamesh's treasury carried the power of a Noble Phantasm, the ancient divine beasts at Ramesses II's command—creatures surpassing magical beasts, phantasmal species, even dragons—were no less formidable.
The first clash ended in a draw!
"Hmph. Interesting."
Gilgamesh snorted as radiant golden light spread beneath his feet, swiftly shaping into a resplendent ark of gold and emerald.
[Vimana]—the legendary flying craft from the Ramayana. However, because the Gate of Babylon contained the prototypes of all treasures, it too was among Gilgamesh's possessions, repurposed as his personal vessel.
In a way, Gilgamesh truly was the epitome of Type-Moon's "cuckold" archetype (and a blond one at that).¹
With the Vimana revealed, Gilgamesh rose aloft, climbing to face Ramesses II on equal ground.
"Did you think you alone could ride the skies? Do not be so arrogant, Sun King! Only I reign supreme from on high—so begone!"
"What nonsense, man of Uruk. Is it not only natural for the sun to stand above? The one who must descend is you!"
"Hahahahaha! A joke! I alone belong above—you, down!"
"Ahahahaha! Absurd! I alone belong above—you, down!"
It seemed Gilgamesh had met his match today.
Not only had his treasury failed to pierce Ramesses II's defenses, but even in verbal sparring—and in the brilliance of their smiles—the Pharaoh matched him blow for blow.
Yet the content of their quarrel left Auram utterly exasperated.
'Seriously? Are you two grade schoolers? Who's on top and who's on bottom… is that really so important?!'
"Hmph—then let me pronounce judgment upon you!"
"Weak, weak, weak! Ahahahaha!!"
And thus, the battle of kings truly began.
A blazing solar beam erupted from Ramesses II's barque. In answer, Gilgamesh's craft unleashed twin torrents of laser fire.
The clash between the two kings had escalated into a bombardment rivaling siege weaponry!
The violent surge of mana churned the sea into towering waves, while even the aftershocks left massive craters across the port's ground.
Such a scale of combat!
This was the Holy Grail War… a true battle between kings!
For Waver, whose greatest experience of spectacle until now had been academy competitions at the Clock Tower, this was overwhelming. He trembled uncontrollably.
"Even trembling like this, you still don't look away… you're a brave one, boy."
"Ri…der?"
A firm hand clapped his shoulder. Waver knew it was Iskandar, encouraging him.
Feeling the Emperor's steady heartbeat at his side, Waver calmed. His legs no longer shook so much.
"Yes, this is the Holy Grail War." Staring up at the kings dueling in the sky, Iskandar clenched his fist. "In any case, with a clash like this, it's not for outsiders to meddle in."
"We'll wait and watch."
Artoria and Tomoe seemed to think the same. They both lowered their weapons and turned their eyes skyward.
A battle of this caliber, between Heroic Spirits like Gilgamesh and Ramesses II, was rare. Beyond their roles as rivals in the Grail War, they were warriors. And warriors could never turn away from such a grand duel of kings.
Within a hundred miles, the only one not watching was Auram.
To solve the question gnawing at him, Auram had slipped into a shadowy nook, pulling a phone from his pocket.
Yes—a phone.
Though Masters and Servants could converse through their contract, Auram, once a modern man, preferred this civilized tool of communication.
He flipped through his contacts, found the only number saved, and pressed dial.
"Hello, Ayaka? It's me."
"Mhm, I'm fine, not hurt. What do I want for dinner… Hah, anything you make, I'll love."
"No, wait, that's not why I called! Ayaka, listen carefully. Something strange has happened here, and I need your advice…"
And so, Auram relayed everything that had occurred tonight at the harbor—especially the appearance of a second Archer and a second Rider.
…
¹ Bruh what?
...
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